


Don't Blame It On the Alcohol

by deepfriedcynic



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 17:43:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deepfriedcynic/pseuds/deepfriedcynic
Summary: In which Blaine wasn't the only one who did Potentially Inadvisable Kissing at Rachel's party.





	Don't Blame It On the Alcohol

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, Glee fandom! Incredibly long time, no see. I set myself a challenge to write something start to finish today, and what appeared was fix-it fic for a tv episode that aired six years ago. Good job, self.
> 
> This barely counts as a fic, since it's just one self-indulgent scene, but I hope any of you who are still floating around reading Kurt fic enjoys it.

Kurt could feel a headache forming behind his eyes, which he thought was incredibly unfair. The whole point of staying sober at Rachel’s party, other than not projectile vomiting on anymore OCD guidance counselors, was being able to wake up the next morning without a hangover.

Fighting with his dad because he let his friend (who he still couldn't think about without seeing Rachel Berry attached to his face) crash on his bed for the night was almost _worse_ than a hangover.

Also he hadn't had a chance to shower or do his skin regiment in almost 36 hours. If Kurt were prone to violence, he would be tempted to punch something. But he was classier than that.

The only bright side was, considering Finn had been the only other sober person at Rachel’s, and he'd been too distracted by his girl drama lately to care about any of Kurt’s own drama, there was a good chance Kurt would make it back to Westerville and be able to move on with his life without having to discuss anything _else_ that happened in Rachel’s house.

Spin the Bottle was the worst.

He was halfway through his second mug of coffee and trying to come up with a way to beg off going to the Lima Bean with Blaine later that didn't have to do with his weird Rachel Berry jealousy when the doorbell rang. Sparing a thought for the fact that he hadn't done more than run his fingers quickly through his hair that morning, he pushed himself to his feet and went to answer the door. Anyone showing up at the Hudmel house before 9AM would just have to deal.

He regretted it immediately. Every last desperate hope of getting out of Lima without an awkward post-train wreck encounter disappeared in a puff of smoke, because Sam Evans was standing on his doorstep. He looked anxious, his hands at his sides clenching and unclenching, and Kurt really hoped he wasn't about to get punched. Getting punched by a gay-panicking jock would be the cherry on top of his crappy weekend sundae.

“Sam,” he said, trying not to sound as wary as he felt. “Finn’s not up yet. Did you need something? Leave something in his car?”

Sam was looking at him kind of wide-eyed, and Kurt bit back a sigh. Everything would have been so much easier if Sam had been drunk enough to forget. Or if Kurt had had better self-control. Really, it was his own fault if he did get punched.

“Oh. Uh, no, I didn't - and Finn and me still aren't really talking after…” Sam sucked in a breath. “I actually wanted to talk to you.”

Of course he did. Kurt stepped back from the doorway and gestured him inside. “I'm not going to tell anyone, if that's what you're worried about,” he said, positive of where the conversation was headed. “Your time would be better spent figuring out which of the others remember and whether they're likely to use it for blackmail. I suggest starting with Santana. And Puck.” Sam, now a couple feet inside the house and looking less wide-eyed but just as incredibly anxious, stared long enough that Kurt had to focus on not fidgeting. “Also, I should warn you if you're planning to hit me that my dad’s right down the hall.”

Gratifyingly for Kurt’s mental state, that made Sam’s face twist in confusion. “Dude, I'm not gonna hit you. Why would I hit you?”

“It's not as far off my past kissing experiences as you might think,” Kurt said weakly, then turned away because that was not what he wanted to talk about, _ever_ if possible. Especially not with someone whose tongue he could still taste even after brushing his teeth twice. “I have coffee in the kitchen if you’d like some. It's good for hangovers, if you believe what you see on TV.”

“No, I'm good.” When Kurt sat back down with his mug, Sam slid into the chair next to his at the end of the table. “I don't have a hangover. I wasn't even really all that drunk last night.”

Kurt arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him. “Could have fooled me.”

Sam smiled at him a little, and Kurt’s eyes involuntarily fell to his (soft, very soft) lips. He forced himself to look back down into his coffee, sure he was bright red. He really hoped his father didn't come down and see this. Or Finn. Or _Blaine_. Dear God, so much Blaine.

“Look, I know I could have just texted you or something, but I…” Kurt looked up when he trailed off and saw that Sam’s cheeks had gone pink. He no longer had any idea where this was going. “Is Blaine your boyfriend?”

“What? I - _what_?”

“Are you guys, like, dating? Or friends? Because you brought him to the party, but you weren't really hanging out all that much, and then you…I tried to ask Puck, but I guess he's still hungover because he just told me to fuck off.” Sam swept the hair back off his forehead and met Kurt’s eyes. “So, is he your boyfriend?”

“We’re friends,” he said, and for some reason it didn't hurt as much to say it that time. Internally, Kurt rolled his eyes at himself. The cure for a broken heart is making out with a drunk straight guy, who knew?

Sam let out a breath and grinned at him. _Grinned_. “Awesome. Then would you maybe want to go see a movie with me later?”

Kurt was confused. Kurt had possibly never been more confused. Because that sounded way too much like Sam was asking him out. “I feel like I shouldn't have to be the one telling you this, Sam, but. You're _straight_.”

“Um, no, not so much.” Sam’s anxiety seemed to have melted away, because his tone implied _Kurt_ was the one being dumb about this. He focused for a moment on his headache, both so he wouldn't blurt out anything ridiculous and as a reminder that he was probably not dreaming this.

“As much as I would like for that to be true, and I would because you are a very good kisser,” he said, and when he glanced up Sam’s grin was back, “enjoying a kiss with an…unexpected partner while you're drunk doesn't make you gay. It probably just means you like kissing. And there's nothing wrong with that! I just don't want to get your hopes up...so to speak.”

_Or mine_.

“I never said I was gay, dude,” Sam said, rolling his eyes a little even as he smiled. “There are more than two options, you know.”

Kurt knew this, objectively. Growing up in Lima, it became obvious pretty fast that if he wanted to learn anything helpful about being queer, it was up to him and his internet connection. So he knew all about bisexuality in theory. He also knew about asexuality, pansexuality, demisexuality, and the workings and limitations of the Kinsey scale. He had just never seen any of it in action.

For all that everything online said sexuality wasn't black and white, but instead a full spectrum, it had never seemed that way living in Lima. Up until a few months ago, as far as he had experienced you were either straight, or you were Kurt. In his most bitter moments, he always thought if he ever met a bisexual guy in person, it would be because a gay guy he liked would rather be with a girl than with him.

See: Blaine and Rachel, swapping spit, less than 12 hours ago.

Kurt was pretty sure he was just sitting at his kitchen table, mouth open in a really unflattering way. Sam scooted closer in his chair, reaching out slowly and resting his hand on Kurt’s wrist. “Even if I hadn't known I was bi, like, way before last night, it wasn't like we just kissed during Spin the Bottle, Kurt. I clearly remember following you upstairs into the Berrys’ kitchen and making out for like an _hour_. Trying to pretend to be straight after that would pretty freaking stupid, alright?”

Once Sam mentioned the Berrys’ kitchen, Kurt’s mind flooded with memories he hadn't been letting himself think about. Sam’s hands traveling down his back, curving around Kurt’s ass like he couldn't help himself. Kurt’s fingers dipping underneath Sam’s shirt, touching warm skin and relishing in the way Sam shivered and pushed closer to him.

He also remembered feeling Sam’s erection against his thigh, but every time it had seemed like they might go further than making out, Kurt had deliberately slowed them down. He had felt so guilty, like every kiss was something he was stealing, but he hadn't been strong enough to stop it completely when Sam seemed to want it so much. Want _him_ so much.

Kurt took a couple of deep breaths, eyes fixed to Sam’s hand where it was touching him.

“I was really scared that I had taken advantage of you,” he said, before he could talk himself out of being honest. “I drafted about 15 different ‘please don't hate me’ messages last night before I fell asleep. I…really expected you to hate me. _I_ kind of hated me.”

He couldn't make himself look up at Sam’s face, so he watched as fingers curled around his wrist, then shifted upward until their fingers interlocked. Sam was _holding his hand_.

When Sam spoke again, his voice was quiet, like he was creating an intimate moment for them right in the middle of Kurt’s kitchen. “If we're doing confession time, does it help that I've wanted to ask you out since, like, September?” Kurt jerked his head up to stare at him, stunned. “Even before I joined glee, I would see you around and want to talk to you, but I wasn't brave enough. You had this really intimidating don't-mess-with-me face all the time that was kind of scary but also super hot. Then I was going to do it after the duets competition, because it seemed like you'd probably say yes? But you ended up bailing before we even got to practice together, so I figured I'd been wrong, and then you were pretty much avoiding me altogether. Then I started going out with Quinn, and you transferred, and, uh. Anyway.” Sam rubbed his free hand through his hair, looking almost a little embarrassed. “I promise you I wasn't that drunk. And I don't regret it at all. Like, _at all_. Unless you do, because that would suck.”

Kurt shook his head, perhaps a little frantically. “No. I don't regret it. Not if…no. Not at all.”

“Good,” Sam said, then pushed forward out of his chair, curling his free hand around Kurt’s neck and pressing their lips together, gently at first and then with more pressure as Kurt took a shocked breath in through his nose and curled his fingers into Sam’s shirt.

This wasn't his first kiss. After the night before, it wasn't even his tenth. But it had the perfect movie first kiss feeling he’d always wanted, that he'd cheated himself out of with Brittany, that was a thousand miles from what he'd had with Karofsky. It was a kiss that felt like a prelude to a million more, but precious enough to be the only one. It was everything Kurt's sappy, hopeless romantic heart had ever wanted.

After a long moment, Kurt pulled back to study Sam’s face, even more handsome this close and a little pink in the cheeks again. “Still bi?” he asked, half a joke and half a concern that he really was dreaming all of this.

Sam laughed and nudged their foreheads together. “Yes. Dork.” He pressed a couple more light kisses to Kurt’s lips. “You never actually agreed to go out with me, you know.”

Kurt smiled at him, moving his hand to rest on Sam's hip. “I think you've persuaded me.” When they kissed again, Kurt parted his lips in invitation, and the tongue that licked into his mouth tasted even better than it had the night before, with no aftertaste of alcohol or guilt. They stayed like that, exploring each other's mouths and holding hands with intertwined fingers, for so long that Kurt wondered if leaning over him was hurting Sam’s back, and of course that was when they heard a clearing throat from across the room.

“Okay, kid, I get it,” Kurt’s dad said, and when Kurt looked around Sam, he was adjusting his hat and looking more awkward than Kurt had ever seen him. “I shouldn't have flipped out about Blaine staying over. You coulda just _told_ me you had a boyfriend.”

Kurt watched Sam’s eyebrows climb up his forehead and bit back a laugh. “Hey, Dad?”

“Yeah, son?”

“I have a boyfriend. And Blaine really did just stay over as a friend because we got back late. I'm sorry I got mad at you this morning.”

Burt rolled his eyes, but smiled a little. “No problem, kid. I'm still gonna look into that stuff we talked about, though. And Evans,” he added, smirking when Sam spun on his heel with wide eyes. “I look forward to seeing you around here more often.”

Sam nodded and said, “Yes, sir,” like he couldn't tell if he'd just been threatened but he was going to be on his best behavior just in case. Kurt thought that was probably just what his dad was going for.

Once Burt had his own cup of coffee and had gone back to his room with a simple shake of the head, Kurt stood up and tentatively slid his hand back into Sam’s, still a little unsure of his welcome. Sam squeezed his fingers and leaned sideways to give him a kiss on the cheek.

“He’ll probably mention this to Finn if I don't ask him not to,” Kurt said, and was relieved when Sam just shrugged.

“I mentioned I was asking Puck about your relationship status, remember? He's hungover but he's not stupid. He's gonna figure out why I asked. I think he's been hinting that I should seduce you back to McKinley anyway. Something about your ‘prep school boy toy’ being a douchebag and glee’s bitch ratio being off?”

“Always nice to know he cares,” Kurt said, dry, and Sam laughed.

They stood for a moment, hands clasped and shoulders touching, and Kurt felt ridiculous, but also like his weekend had gone from the worst to the best in just a few unbelievable minutes.

“So I’ll meet you outside the mall at five?” Kurt asked. “We can get an unhealthy food court dinner. Maybe sneak cheap candy into the theater?”

“It’s a date.” Sam pulled him into hug, then pressed one last lingering kiss against his lips. He backed toward the door, a wide smile breaking across his face. “We have a date!” He practically bounced down the hall toward the front door, then disappeared with a “see you tonight, Kurt!”

Kurt grinned at the closed door like a moron for several seconds, then headed upstairs to make Blaine get out of bed and start getting ready to go home. He had a date in eight hours, and he needed most of that to figure out what to wear.


End file.
